Cassie
by flutterbye1888
Summary: Cassie is Sam and Ada's nineteen year old daughter. Due to a lot of things, she's never been normal. She never wanted to, though. In fact, she wants to jump right in and become a hunter. Her parents, Uncle Dean, and Castiel all don't want her to... but who's gonna stop her? (Standalone Sequel to Supernatural Retired)
1. Falling out of Line

My name is Castiel Winchester and I am running away from home.

It's kind of because of my name, actually. But, that's a long story.

All you need to know right now is that I'm in a Walmart parking lot stealing a car. Oh, and please call me Cassie.

The Toyota wagon sputters to life and I sigh in relief.

"Thank you, uncle Dean," I mutter to myself. He taught me all I know about cars. I rarely asked him to teach me about them, but when I did he was a well of information.

I sit up in the seat and pull out of the parking lot and onto the open highway. I feel myself relaxing as the miles pass.

Then my phone starts to ring.

I close my eyes. I took it with me in case of emergencies, but I should have put it on silent.

I pull it out of my pocket and shove it in the glove compartment. The music continues faintly for only a few more seconds.

My curfew was a hour ago, but my parents trust me. It was my design that they did. I was the _bestest._

I had been planning this forever.

They had always told me I wasn't going to be a hunter.

"You don't have to be," they said, "Why would you if you don't have to be?"

Castiel (not me, the other one,) even said that it was 'safer' if I didn't hunt.

Oh yeah, my name. Let me tell you about my name.

I was named after an angel. He was a good friend of my parents and my uncle Dean. That's not why they named me after him, though. They probably would have given me a girl's name if given the choice. No, I was named after him because 'heaven said so.'

The line makes me sick. Oh, trust me, it made me feel special for a long time, but now it only represents everything I wish I could change about my life.

My life. Man, so far it's been _peachy_. That's why people run away from home. Yeah.

Ok, look. I was OK. It was all just fine. My parents are the sweetest, and I know this will hurt them. I know Cas will look for me endlessly, and I know uncle Dean will blame himself for all the training he had a hand in, I know, I know, I know.

But right now, windows open, warm June breeze, Kansas highway just flying behind me, _I just don't care._ I'm on the way to putting myself to good use for once.

I mean, why the hell was heaven so interested in me if they didn't plan on letting me _do_ anything?

I'm a seer, by the way. Hi. No, it doesn't mean I can see you, or anything. _I see dead people_. For real. Not even joking.

It was worse when I was a little kid. I had trouble getting to sleep because I couldn't control it. I just saw them in the dark, all around. Terrifying. Then there was an incident with a demon abduction and I accidentally broke the veil and we found out Castiel (again, not me,) was still alive. It was a big day for everyone.

Ok, I'm getting distracted. I'm running away to be a hunter. 'Cause I expect I'll be good at it and help a lot of people. And the world as of late needs more hunters.

I'm on my way to an old friend's house. I met her once when I was younger, a psychic named Missouri Moseley. She doesn't live in Missouri, actually. She lives in Lawrence, Kansas, the place where my dad and uncle Dean were born.

It's also where my grandmother was killed right after my dad was born.

Lets just say, I'm not gonna visit my dad's childhood house.

It's only four hours' drive, and I pull into Lawrence around three AM. I'm not super tired; I got some coffee before I stole the car, but I'm still glad to see a motel on the main road.

I pull out my fake credit card to pay for the room. That's something else my uncle Dean taught me: credit card fraud.

The tired employee blinks at the card. "Miss Tonya Veblen?"

"Mhmm," I smile. She rolls her eyes and hands me a key-card.

"Enjoy your stay. Breakfast at nine."

I didn't know there was breakfast. Nice.

The bed isn't comfortable, but I'm tired. I mute my phone, which has rung inside the glove box nearly hourly since I left.

I know my parents are worried, and I should call them, but I'm afraid they'll be able to convince me to come home.

Castiel won't be able to find me unless I tell him where I am, and I took the tracker out of my phone, so imagine my surprise in the morning when I hear a knock on the door.

"Police," a loud voice says. I pull on a hoodie to cover my bralessness and open the door, chain in place.

The officer looks legitimate, and there's a squad car flashing at the other side of the parking lot. I hear another officer knocking at the room next to mine, and I feel a little less panicked. They aren't after my credit card; they would know the room I was in in that case.

I unlatch the door and turn on the lights.

"What's going on?" I ask the woman, stepping back to let her in.

"Miss-" she looks at a piece of paper she holds, "Tonya Veblen?"

Shoot, I'm in trouble.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Sorry to bother you, we're just checking all the rooms over; we found a stolen car in the parking lot."

Aw, man. There goes my ride.

"For real?" I say, "Man, am I glad I don't have a car."

"You don't have a car?" she asks.

"No, I hitch," I say, "Wait, is that illegal?"

"Only if you're walking on the roads," she says, "How old are you?"

"Twenty two," I lie. I'm nineteen.

"Mhmm." She sounds suspicious. "Well, without a car, you don't mind if we search the room for keys?"

"Not at all," I say, very _very_ glad I thought ahead and put it on the outside windowsill on the back wall of the bathroom. It's likely they already found my sawed-off and the Beretta in the trunk, so I'm gunless for the time being.

Fortunately, I always carry my knives on my person. I've always been better with knives, anyway.

I pull my six-inch iron throwing knife from under my pillow and show the officer, who's name is Melissa, before putting it in my hoodie pocket.

"Smart to keep that with you," she says, "if you 'hitch.'"

I thank her for the compliment and ask when I can go to breakfast.

"Now," she says, "But your stuff has to stay here."

I grab my phone and wallet. I don't need anything else. I get a waffle on a paper plate and fill my pockets with butter and peanut butter packets.

I go into the bathroom and climb out the window to the back alley.

The walk isn't long to Missouri's place. She has a client at the moment, but quickly tells him what he wants to hear and shoos him out.

"The police are looking for you," she says, "You can't underestimate them if you're going to be a hunter."

"I'm not," I say, "I hid the keys-"

"Which they found."

"And I used a fake card."

"Which you now cannot use."

I smile at her and hold out my arms for a hug.

"Nice to see you again, dear," she says.

Missouri is a psychic. I personally think that's more powerful than a seer, but she says otherwise.

"I can only see the other side," she said when I last saw her, "You can influence it."

She seems more useful, though.

"You're here for my help, but there's nothing I can do for you," she says.

"Can you put me up for a few days?" I ask her, "Until I get new guns and an idea of where to go."

"If you left right away, I would be disappointed. If the boys call, though, don't think I'm gonna lie to them. I did that once before for your grandfather, and I regretted it from the day it happened."

I want her to tell me the story behind her statement, but I know she won't.

"Damn right I won't," she says, "Why don't you get some new clothes before police are crawling the city for you."

I walk, kicking a rock, to the thrift store I'm told is down the street. It's funny to me that Missouri called my dad and his brother 'the boys.' To me my dad has never been more than a somewhat typical dad, and uncle Dean a slightly less typical uncle. Besides the hunting, that is.

I forget sometimes that they're basically veterans. Mom too, although she met them after they had already faced a lot.

The thrift store is dusty and they only accept cash, which means I'll have to dip into my emergency fund. I can always refill it later with another fraudulent card, but it feels way too early in this journey to spend any of it yet.

I get simple clothes, some jeans, some tees, some hoodies. I throw in a pair of shiny sunglasses when I'm at the counter and get myself checked out.


	2. Missouri

Missouri hasn't changed since I saw her when I was a kid. She looks surprisingly young, but I know she's pushing sixty.

Fortunately for me, she has any of the paperwork she needs to legally buy guns, so I go out with her and get another shotgun and a Taurus. She has a frozen lasagna she wants me to make us for supper as she goes out to visit a friend.

I throw it in the oven and flip on the TV and scour the news for anything about myself. Lawrence is a big place, I didn't expect to see myself on the first news station I check. It's a drawing, probably from the officer I spoke to earlier. They list my crimes: unlicensed guns, stolen car, credit-card fraud. They say I'm under the pseudonym 'Tonya,' and I laugh.

I turn to a ghost hunting show and laugh at their absurdity until the oven beeps, almost at the same moment as Missouri comes back. "Turn off that nonsense," she says, "I only keep that TV for the news." I reach for the remote and click it off.

"The lasagna just came out," I say.

"Plates are in the cupboards," she says, taking place-mats and napkins, sitting at her dining room table and looking at me until I set our places with dishes and silverware. I take the lasagna out of the kitchen and set it on an oven mitt. I serve Missouri first, then sit and dish myself a heaping plate.

"How were your friends?" I ask her.

"One friend," she says, "And she's fine. Having trouble with her son that she won't tell me about. I try to help her with him regardless."

I nod. I admire her use of her gifts. Just as soon as I wonder if she can help me develop mine as she shakes her head.

"You're a seer, sweetheart. Not a psychic. I wouldn't know where to start with you. I do know the family of the last great seer, though. I'm sure they'd love to see you." She then pauses and looks up from her food. "Your parents did tell you..."

I notice the change in her tone and stop smiling politely. "I'm not sure what you're referring to."

"They haven't. They must not have known."

I shake my head. "Anything they didn't know, Castiel would have."

"Then they kept it from you. And wrongly," she said, "The angel especially. A tricky bunch, them."

I smile and keep my opinion of the angels to myself. She smirks at me, and I remember that I can't keep anything to myself here.

"What were they keeping from me?" I ask her.

"The seers are just vessels, and as such there can only be one at a time. They're usually born to families with a significant Biblical bloodline, such as yours with the lineage of Cain. The other folks are about as cursed as the Winchesters, if you can believe it. They're direct descendants of Delilah."

I tilt my head slightly, a habit I'm trying to break. I recently realized who I learned it from, and I don't have any desire to be anything like my namesake. Maybe that's harsh, but I'm trying not to be who everyone says I am, and just calling me by my name is calling me someone I'm not.

"What are their names?" I ask her, taking our plates to the sink. She follows me with the leftover lasagna and dishes it into a cleaned butter tub.

"Well, the other seer was called Efram," she says, "After his angel. I think he was alone those last few years, though. He seemed... depressed."

"Alone."

"His angel died."

I nod and briefly remember the stories I'd been told of when my angel was dead and I brought him back.

"Not everyone is that lucky," she says, drying the dishes I've washed. "I'll find you their address," she says, "The Chase family."

She gives it to me as I set myself up a bed on the couch. I start to thank her when I'm interrupted by a ringing phone. I look warily at it.

"I think we both know who that is," Missouri says.

I look down at the couch, where it beckons, and instead fold the blanket back up. I quickly pack while I hear Missouri talking to my dad.  
"Of course I did," she says, "She's still here, now, but I'm not stopping her from leaving. And before you ask, she didn't say where she was going."

I look up at her and she winks at me. I kiss her on the cheek as I walk past her and out the door, my second-hand duffel full and a knife and a gun at either hip. I look back at the warm light of her house once before walking away down the street. The night is dark, besides the orange street lights. I try to avoid people as I walk, looking into cars occasionally to determine their worth to their owners. I would hate to take one that looks like someone lives in it.

I eventually find an old and rusty Honda parked by the street. There's a little garbage inside, but not much. I pick the lock with a long metal wire I found on the street and make quick work of hot wiring it.

I pull out of the city as midnight passes and drive south. I look at the paper Missouri gave me. Texas here I come.


	3. And, Someone Found Me

The drive is long and I love it. The windows are only closed when it's raining around midday, and I even stopped and let them sit open then to feel the rain and watch the lightening. I roll into a little town around three in the afternoon and I'm exhausted. I don't even check on my phone how much farther I'll have to travel to get to the Chase's house. I really don't mind getting lost. I know I'm going South by the sun, and I saw the state marker for Arizona as I passed it.

I get the motel room closest to the fire escape in a tiny town in Oklahoma and I fall asleep with my new Taurus under my pillow and the shotgun and the knife both nearby.

I wake naturally in the morning, pleasantly surprised by the placid silence of the motel. I go into the bathroom and wash my face, and my heart skips a beat when I lift my eyes and see a man behind me in the mirror. I swear and spin around to face him.

It's an angel. I can see it immediately, a subtle unearthly glow behind his eyes. I look down to check my suspicion and see his grace pooling and swirling at his feet. I know to other people like my parents the angels look human, but to me, they could never be anything other than ethereal. Even the archangels, who can hide better than their brothers, have grace sparkling in their footsteps.

"What the hell do you want," I snap, relaxing only slightly. I may not recognize this vessel, but this is an angel I know.

He rolls his eyes. "Nothing, princess. Except maybe to know where you think you're going."

"That's none of your business, Raphael," I mutter, pushing past him into my room. "How did you find me?"

"It may not be any of my business directly," he says, "But my brother is worried sick over losing you, and I'm sure he'd be very interested in the last half of your statement himself."

"And you think he could stop me if you led him here?" I bundle up my things and open the door, the angel close behind.

"Not physically, obviously," he says with a small smirk. I look him over from head to foot as I stand with the hotel key. He's right that Cas could probably convince me to come home. He's always been the best to argue with me, regardless of my pigheadedness.

"Come on," I say, slinging my duffel over my shoulder. "Walk and talk." I notice a police officer in a car across the street, so I don't risk touching the car I stole. I drop the key in the drop box and walk into town, passing small shops and houses.

"So, Cas," he says.

"Please don't call me that-" I interrupt him.

"Sorry," he says sarcastically, " _Cassie_. Better?"

I don't answer him.

"You never answered my first question."

"And you haven't answered mine. Let's do this democratically," I say, "An answer for an answer."

"That's not Democr-"

"I am going to see the family of the last great Seer," I tell him, "now you answer mine." I stop and peer into an alley beside a bakery. There's a rusty white car in the gravel back driveway, but a man leans on a wall nearby smoking. I pass them.

"I found you because you're loud," he says, "Do you know how much of a disturbance you make? I just needed to talk to the right people. Or, spirits, rather."

"Ok. So why hasn't Cas tried?"

"Ah, ah, ah. My turn. Do you know how worried your parents are? Or Cas? Your uncle? I have never seen any of them this worried. And I've seem them in quite a pickle before, believe me."

He makes me feel only a little ashamed of myself.

"I know full well the effect this must have on them," I tell him, "But it's not about them. It's about me. I don't know who I am. Do you know how it feels to not know who I am?"

"I know that's a rhetorical question, but I'm going to be mean, answer it, and ask another of my own."

"Oh don't you start. Answer the one I asked before, why hasn't Cas found me?"

"He doesn't know it's that easy. Since you were born, he's either been dead, or wholly absorbed in caring for you. He's gotten far too desensitized to the mess you've made."

"Mess I've made, thanks."

"It's not like it's you're fault. It just follows the seers around. Ghosts and things of the sort. You don't even know how busy you made the bunker walls."

"The bunker walls." I say, unbelieving.

"The spells, Cassie." he rolls his eyes again.

"You stop rolling your eyes or I'll stop them myself."

He looks at me for a second, biting back what I can tell would be a scathing remark. The angels, over time, have learned to take me seriously.

I break the silence. "Your turn to ask a question."

"I don't have another. Your turn to ask as you please."

We come to a crossroads, and I see down the street to the left of us, a heavenly sight.

"An impound lot! Oh, hallelujah." I turn and run down the street, pulling a bobby pin from my scalp. I unlock the main gate and swing it open. "Hold that for me, I'll get us a ride," I tell Raph. It's then that I see the nicest car I'll ever drive, besides Baby, who was my first.

I whistle, standing next to it. "I bet it sucked to get this guy towed," I say to myself, "And now it'll suck to get it stolen." So far, I'd tried not to take anything that seemed it might be too badly missed. It was my honor among thieves, of sorts. But I could not resist a beautiful forest green 2017 Mustang.

I get in and sit down on the cushy leather seat. I laugh in appreciation.

We get on the road with a purr and I let myself soak in the speed for a few miles before bringing up some more questions of my own.

"Why the new vessel?" I ask the angel in the passenger seat.

"Why not the new vessel?" He retorts. I take my eyes off the road to roll them at him and shoot him a look.

"There was a scuffle in heaven. Or, really, more of a shuffle. Someone's out there looking just like I used to, and I look just like Josiah, I think his name was. Happened to hundreds of us. It's no matter. The ones to whom it counts won't be fooled."

"Like meee?" I say, smiling with all my teeth at him.

"Yes," he says, "Like you. It would be bad to be misidentified by the great seer of the age."

"That's almost like anti-sarcasm," I say, "I can't even tell whether you're being honest or not with all the layers of irony you have there."

"Think how bad it would be if you were talking to one of the others?" he says, "You know you're not entirely popular in heaven."

"Yeah," I say, "I bet none of the seers have been, though. I could liken myself to a wasp in the corner to someone with an allergy."

"Oh, so you're poetic now."

"I could be _anything_ now," I say, "I'm not Castiel."

With that, we both finally fall silent. The angel sits for maybe a half an hour, as though waiting for me to come up with questions, before he disappears with a light whipping sound.


	4. Damn, Now They Actually Found Me

"Wimberly, Texas," I read aloud on the slightly crumpled paper when I stop for gas a few miles south of the Texas border. I enter the dusty store to look for a road map. I see a familiar tousled head at the register and duck quickly behind a shelf.

"Haven't seen her," I hear the cashier drone in a bored tone.

"Well, this is the route she's taking. Could I give you this picture and have you keep an eye out for her?"

I don't dare peek around the corner. How did they get so much farther ahead of me? I see through the front windows another three familiar figures approach the store.

Castiel. Of course. Did Raph sell me out? Or Missouri? Damn.

I quickly make my way to the back of the store and enter the beer cooler. I sit cross-legged behind a stack of boxes and close my eyes.

I touch the veil, the cold floor helping me stay grounded. I see Cas' grace and my family's souls through the walls as they finish their conversation with the cashier and exit. I watch them stroll 'casually' behind a dumpster, and his flash of grace as they jump ahead to the next destination on their list.

I open my eyes and stand. Should I trust the cashier not to call them as soon as I get gas? I can't go much farther with the gas I have. I doubt there's another town for miles.

I take the chance and grab a bag of funions.

"And twenty dollars on tank two, please," I say, when I put the bag on the counter. I see a photo of my face crumpled in the garbage. The cashier squints at my face as he hands me my receipt and I quickly thank him and leave. I get out of there as fast as I can, and call Missouri as I drive.

"Hey honey," she says. I know she has trouble psychic reading over the phone, so maybe she doesn't know what happened.

"Missouri, they found me. Or, they didn't, but I just narrowly missed them."

"Where are you?"

"A ways from Wimberly."

"Are you sure they _found_ you, or maybe they just know where you're going?"

"Isn't that the same thing? Did you tell them?" I make my voice sound scolding, the way I do when the angels get cocky.

"Don't you use that tone with me, young lady. I did no such thing."

"It was Raph, then," I mutter to myself.

"What's that, honey?"

"Just talking to myself, Missouri. I'm sorry to bother you," I sigh.

"You better keep on bothering me, Cassie."

I smile. "Thank you for everything."

"Not a problem."

I pull into Wimberly that night, tired enough to start swerving. I leave the car on the edge of town and walk slowly under the stars. I'm about ready to pass out in the parking lot when I reach the motel. I'm glad I didn't make it to the first one in the phone book. That's probably the one my family are staking out tonight. The Chase's house is likely next, if Raph told them that much.

I get my key and fall into bed, debating whether it was worth it or not to change into more comfortable clothes. I groan as I stand again, kicking off my jeans and opening my duffel for sweatpants.

I hear a knock at the door.

"Shoot," I mutter, ducking in case whoever it is can see through the peep-hole. I pull on my sweatpants on the floor and crawl to the door. I stand and peer through the hole and see my dad. And my mom. And behind them, Cas and Dean.

I sigh deeply. I didn't want it to come to this.

I open the door.

"Cassie!" they all say in unison, a strange cacophony of voices.

"Yes, hi," I say, "How the hell." They file in.

I close the door.

"Raphael-"

"Dammit," I mutter, "I'll kill that angel."

"He was only looking out for you," my mom says, coming closer to touch my hair. I back out of it and push her hair away. "Did Missouri tell you anything about the Chases?"

"No," I say, "But you're not going to stop me meeting them just because of some awful story or whatever."

"They killed Efram," Castiel says sadly.

"The angel, or..." Their looks tell me the answer.

"That doesn't mean they just kill seers!" I say, "Maybe Efram was a jackass!"

"Language, Cassie," says my dad.

"Not under your bunker roof, daddy," I smile sweetly, "I'll say what I want."

He shoots me a look, but doesn't say anything.

Castiel steps towards me, his grace bright and lasting on the carpet the way only his has ever been.

"You know we can't let you go, Cas-"

"No!" I shout, feeling the veil ripple. Cas jerks back.

"Cassie," Dean starts, "We-"

"I said _no!_ " The veil shudders now. Castiel grabs Dean's arm, urging them with his eyes not to push me any farther.

My mother puts on her scolding face. "Now, Cassie-"

"Stop!" I shout. The motel physically shakes and they all freeze.

"I-" I say after a few seconds of silence, "Am going to meet the Chase family."

No one verbally objects.

"And then," I say, climbing into bed, "I'm going to become a hunter. Not one of you is _allowed_ to stop me."

They stand quietly in the room until I shoo them away.

I want to cry.


	5. The Chases Chase

In the morning, they're gone. I can't say what I expected them to do, but that wasn't it. Maybe Castiel warned them not to mess with me.

I press a hand to my face as I walk up main-street. How much damage did I do last night? A small earthquake won't do much to earth, but when it's veil sourced... How many spirits did I wake? Not to mention the angels I must have pissed off, and the damage the veil itself might have sustained.

It could be that my parents are too busy trying to fix my messes again to watch me set off.

I cross the street to an antique store, figuring the good-old-boys would know how to get to the Chase family's address.

Instead of the tired old men I expected would hang out in an antique shop, I see a group of middle-aged women. They smile as I enter.

"Hello, dear," the woman at the register says. The other three say their goodbyes and excuse themselves from the store.

"Now," she says, setting down the dustcloth she'd been using and smiling brightly.

"I'm actually looking for directions to a local address," I say.

"Well, you've come to the right place," she says, "My husband delivers the mail, and he's just upstairs painting the apartment. Give me a moment and I'll fetch him."

She closes the open register and steps out from behind the counter. She quickly disappears behind the piles of curios, but I can here her making her way to the back of the store. Soon she returns with a man who's stout and much shorter than her.

"I hear you need directions?" he says, smiling as brightly as she is. It's almost disconcerting. "My wife seems to think I remember everything, but I'll help you if I can."

I hand him the address and the pair start laughing.

"What is it," I ask, starting to laugh myself.

"That's our address!" the woman shouts, "I'm Abigail Chase, nice to meet you." I shake her outstretched hand.

"Martin Chase," the other man says, still laughing while he shakes my hand. "How can we be of service?"

"My name's Cassie," I say once the two stop giggling. Their faces grow serious.

"I take by your expressions that you've heard of me?"

"Once grandpa Efram died, the angels told us there was a new seer," Abigail says, "Of course we were curious. We didn't have to look far, either. You're big news, more than Efram ever was."

I tilt my head, but quickly put it back. Old habits die very very hard.

"I expect you'll want to talk to the rest of the family?" says Martin, "Abby and I aren't hunters, the rest of them are."

"We didn't want that for us or our kids," says Abigail.

"You could just point me in the direction-"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Martin interrupts, "I'll grab the truck from around back and we can drive."

To my surprise, Abby closes the shop. I guess in a small town, you don't risk much being closed one day.

The ride down dusty back roads is unsettlingly quiet. No one reaches towards the truck's radio dial, and we sit in silence. I try, once, to start a conversation, but the subject runs short and I don't attempt it again. Instead, I close my eyes and touch the veil.

I can see the souls of the two in the front seat. Neither have ever been demon possessed, which is lucky for hunters. The pale glow of a human's soul is dark with them all the same. That tells me they've taken lives, not a surprise for a hunter. I notice, too, that they aren't soul mates. It always makes me a little sad, that. Some people just don't find them in time.

I hear voices and feel my body lean. I figure we must have turned into their driveway. In the distance there's a pillar of light I'm surprised I didn't see before. I pull back and open my eyes. The two aren't looking at me. We park and I step out of the car and onto the gravel driveway. Their grass is surprisingly green in the heat, and several old-growth trees shield the house from passers-by.

I'm very interested in meeting the others, but I remember what Castiel told me the night before. Although I don't think they killed Efram without reason, I'll be wary of the Chases for my family's sake. Speaking of, I expected to see them here. Even in the veil, I didn't feel Castiel's warmth tugging at the web. I'm here alone.

"Come right in," says Abigail, leading the way into the house. The interior is slightly dim, and my eyes take a second to adjust from the mid-morning sunlight. The rustic furniture looks comfortable, and the books on the bookshelves are primarily in Latin and other foreign tongues.

To my right the kitchen is cluttered with clay pots and glass jars. More rooms extend from where I stand in roughly the same condition. It's almost like I've stepped back in time, and it's exactly what I pictured a hunter's house to look like. They implore me to explore and introduce myself to the others, and I approach the stairs. In the hallway, I pause and gasp.

There's a strange feeling deep in me that I've been here before. It's not like any deja-vu that I've ever experienced, and I used to get them a lot. It's sinister. And I'm suddenly very afraid.

I take a few steps forward and the feeling fades away. I'd bet my life I just stepped through the pillar of light I saw upon arriving.

I take deep breaths while I take steps towards the stairs. I am not OK with this. I want to leave. But I came all this way, I want to learn _something_ , and it won't be that my family was right.

When I feel strong enough to climb the stairs, I do and enter a hallway that's, you guessed it, dim and cluttered. To the left is an open door. An old woman sits on the bed facing a window.

"He married me when he was already very old, you know," she says to no one in particular. "Nineteen years he's been gone. That's nine plus ten, the ages of Mallory and Greg, my grandkids."

She turns to me and I gasp slightly. She has no eyes.

"Come in and sit down, my dear. I'm not crazy," she says. She's not convincing me.

"How did you know I was there?" I say. I was fairly quiet.

"You don't have to be a high and mighty seer to feel when someone's watchin' you."

She says none of this with malice and I feel safer than I have since I was in the truck.

"So, you are..."

"Please call me Paige," she says, "It's not my name, but I like it."

"I'm-"

"You think I don't know who you are?" she says with a laugh, "I felt you coming a mile away. Married to a seer as long as I was, something must have rubbed off on me, I swear. You gotta keep a lookout when you're married. He's gonna get all kinds of smart."

It's a good thing I don't plan on getting married.

"What are you here for, Castiel Winchester," she says, her voice now sounding a little strange. I decide not to correct her with my nickname. It isn't crucial, not like my questions are.

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask her, hoping that somewhere in her, she knows.

"What do you want to do?"

I wasn't expecting her to answer a question with a question.

"I-" It takes me only a second to recollect my thoughts, "I want to be a hunter. Like my parents were back before they had me." I look away from the figure by the window and instead turn to the photo on her desk.

"I want to help people."

The figure to the left in the photograph must be Paige. She looks middle aged; still unblemished by time, but tired of it. The man to her right, I know must be Efram. I pick up the frame and she hears the clatter.

"Oh, that old thing. That's Efram and I. Back before you really saw the difference."

I blink.

"The... difference?"

"Our ages never looked the same, my love."

Now her speech is deteriorating, and I feel a chill. Her voice is loose like her lips are hot taffy.

"Paige?"

"No," she says, "No, no. No more pretending. I am Lily. Lillian. That's what he called me, Lillian! I was supposed to die first. I was! He was supposed to live forever." She turns around again, her eyeless face no longer a shock. "He did live forever! Before he had me, I mean. This family we made... It's what got him in the end."

I see now what's making her sound so strange. The left half of her face is starting to sag. I know very little about strokes besides that my grandmother died of one when my mom was young, but I can tell that this is one. I turn from the woman and burst into the hallway.

"Help!" I shout. I knock over a stack of books. "Please, someone help!" I run down the stairs and feel the chill as I pass through the awful spot in the hall before racing into the kitchen. It's empty. The living and dining rooms are empty. As I run around, I see that the whole house is empty. It scares me more than Lily's stroke does.

My stomach twists in knots as I stand by the front door, debating running off down the road. I turn back around and race up the stairs. Lily is on the floor and I rush to lift her into her bed.

"How can I help?" I beg her, "Please, tell me how I can help."

Her mouth is half open. "Efram," she slurs. She lifts her right hand to my face. "I'd know that chill anywhere."

I hold still as her cold, soft, hand touches my cheek. The place where her right eye used to be crinkles up, like she would cry. Then, it falls flat. Her hand drops, and I feel her soul drift away. I close my eyes and touch the veil. Watching death is my favorite part of being a seer.

Right above me, I see her colors. She led a brilliant life. She found her soul mate. Normally, there would be something connecting her soul to his, but I don't know about the soul of a seer. Did Efram exist, or was he just a vessel.

Do I exist?

Maybe I can't figure out who I am because I'm not anyone.

My thoughts and emotions shock the rising soul. I want to apologize to her. Her journey to heaven should be sweet. She has nothing to fight about. No one she would stay on earth for.

While she has children and grandchildren, that's not the kind of relationship you decide to stay on earth for. I have no doubt, she won't be haunting anyone.

I open my eyes to the horrified face of Abigail.

"You killed her," she says, eyes wide.

"No, I-"

"You _killed_ her!" Her face twitches and dread blooms in my stomach.

"It was a stroke, I tried to-"

She screams wordlessly, standing in the doorway. I leave the bed and step around it, my eyes never leaving her face. This woman was raised a hunter. If she wanted to kill me, she probably could. There are tears in her eyes now, and her gaze has left me. She kneels by her mother's body, reaching out for her hands.

I reach the wall and feel for the window. Martin appears in the door and Abigail turns towards him. I use this opportunity to spin around and throw the window open. There's nothing below me but the hard ground, so I climb out and hang from my arms to get lower to the ground.

The landing is still a shock to my legs, but I don't have time to nurse them. I hear two pairs of footsteps stomping down the stairs inside.

I run to the street and back the way we'd come, almost crying when I see the impala in the distance. I throw open the door and climb over my dad to get it.

"Let's go," I say, as if it was my idea they be here.

The drive is quiet. I expect they don't want to say 'I told you so.' I'm squished between my mom and my dad and I couldn't feel more defeated.

I sigh. "You told me so."

They still say nothing. I find myself leaning against my dad. He puts an arm around me and I pull my legs up onto the seat.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

We drive out of Wimberly and north towards home.

 _Don't worry, guys. Cassie hasn't given up just yet. Plus, Sam and Ada have a surprise for her. ;)_


End file.
